it's okay kid...

I met Mike at a poker game. I didn't know how to play poker. I followed a boy to that game. The boy was a mess and I was drawn to him like a moth to flame. It was the beginning of my fascination with fires and it took too many years to stop reaching for the flame.

Regardless, there was Mike. He was holding court and when we were introduced, he called me Kid. I hated being called Kid. I stopped being a kid at nine years old. But, when Mike said it and my friend sucked in her breath expecting the wrath, I just said, "Hey, man, teach me to play?"

Mike never left my side. He held me when I cried again and again over that boy I'd followed to the poker game. He opened the doors for me to every bar and restaurant I entered. Men who harassed me disappeared with Mike and either didn't return or stayed away from me for the rest of the night.

Mike had a girl and a child, but the relationship was a disaster. He often didn't have a job and never had a car. I drove him anywhere that he needed to go and loaned him money that he never failed to repay. I picked him up again and again because Mike was a sensitive guy and his girl knew just where to hit him.

We would drive around for hours and talk. Usually, it was about me trying to understand why the train wreck that I was in love with just didn't understand that I was the right one. But, wishes like that are never granted and the harder you wish the more you cry. Mike would sit next to me and hold my hand. He'd say, "It's okay, Kid. Don't lose hope. You're a good girl and you'll be fine."

It's been just about ten years since Mike hit a bridge driving home drunk. It's been just about twenty years since I talked to Mike. Tonight at the corner of Lindbergh and Manchester I heard a voice say, "It's okay, Kid. Don't lose hope."

I haven't, Mike. And man, I miss you.